
some in frequent use pages darkened by hungry fingers 'who done it' tickling the darkest inside us some covered by dust only yellow by age 'who wants to know' fuelling the creative light during long dark nights dark prose in the poetry corner and whiskey stinking PI's comparing their scars silent with millions of words organised in rows and shelfs collective minds peaks and abysses of humanity
Growing up in a broken home in the suburbs, the library was always a safe haven. Still today I get calm entering a library or a book store.
Take care of the libraries, Ha de Gött!





























